


four twenty-three am

by winkyjinki



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eddie Kaspbrak is a big ball of anxiety, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Drinking, as well as eddie living w/ bev, aspiring comic richie, just your typical reddie fanfic, with some stan the closet case uris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkyjinki/pseuds/winkyjinki
Summary: Eddie has a habit of suppressing his feelings by going out every weekend, drinking, and not giving a fuck. During one of his weekends, he meets Richie through mutual friends Bev and Stan, who, although a bit of a mess himself, makes Eddie feel like himself again.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	four twenty-three am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eddie finds himself drawn to boys in palm tree shirts who have comments on his choice of alcohol.

**_Read_ ** _Yesterday_

“Motherfucker,” Eddie mutters to himself, angrily swiping out of his messaging app. If this is how the universe intended for the rest of his semester to go, he would kindly like to return what he’s been given thus far.

At the current moment, he and Bill are not on speaking terms. Eddie is still unaware of why because Bill refuses to talk to him in class or acknowledge him around campus or even _text him back_ , but he’s got an inkling.

To put it simply, Eddie…has been having trouble.

Lately, he has been drinking much more than he can handle and getting himself into situations he would never, in his right mind, subject himself to. He goes out way more often than he feels is necessary, but still, he allows Bev to drag him out to clubs and house parties because he just needs to feel. And if that means he makes a drunk mess of himself every once in a while, then so be it.

It hadn’t really been a problem until recently, when he messaged Bill about an assignment due date and received no answer. Bill, who always makes sure to get back to everyone who contacted him before the day ends. And, while concerning, there have been times where Bill has knocked out before he gets a chance to respond to anyone due to exhaustion, so Eddie normally wouldn’t have thought much of it. That is, if it wasn’t so eerily close to the last time he drank.

He’d been reassured by mutual friends that he was just overthinking as per usual, but his suspicions were confirmed when he’d been met with the silent treatment that following Tuesday in class.

Since then, Bill has yet to speak to him, despite his attempts to reach out.

“Get up, whore,” says Bev, tossing a pair of jeans on top of Eddie’s torso, which is currently curled up in bed. When he looks up from his phone, he finds her rummaging through his closet and drawers, already dressed in tight jeans and a mesh top and heaps of bracelets on each of her wrists. Without even looking back to meet his gaze, she continues, “Pregame at Stan’s.”

Eddie groans, hoping that if he whines for long enough, she will just drop it and go on without him. It’s been about two weeks since he blacked out at Mike’s party and he’s still not sure he’s ready to even _look_ at a bottle of liquor.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bev says with a turn on her heel, as if she can read his mind and is now intervening his thoughts. Eddie sits up in his bed, setting his phone on his desk beside his bed. She continues, “It’s gonna be super chill, I promise. It’s literally just gonna be us and Ben and Stan and, like, maybe a handful of their friends.”

He truly believes that she deserves the suspicious glare that he shoots her way in response because every single time she has said that they would have a ‘super chill’ night, it ends up being the exact opposite. There is a whole anecdote on the night they joined a group of people on a trip to a nightclub in Portland to support his claim. Eyebrow raised, he questions, “So why are you dressed like that?”

She shrugs with a guilty smile. “Bars.”

Oh, how stupid of Eddie to forget about going to the bars afterward.

He watches as Bev makes her way toward him, plopping down beside him on his bed when she reaches her destination. Judging by the way she leans her head on his shoulder and reaches for one of his hands, he knows that she’s about to pull her usual schtick where she makes the night sound as attractive as possible so that he physically cannot refuse. Nevertheless, he prepares himself to the best of his abilities and begins mustering up the strength to resist any temptation she places in front of him.

“Come on,” Bev coaxes, pouting ever so slightly and batting her eyelashes up at him. “We’ll go on a quick run, get some beers, maybe some other chill drink… Get a little tipsy, hang with Stan and Ben and go out and just have a good time at One Up and come back and then we’ll just sleep in tomorrow.”

Eddie wants to say no, is so ready to say no; but when Bev looks at him the way she does and promises a late morning, there’s little room for him to reject. And he thinks that somewhere in her persuasion, Bev is trying to make a point. Maybe it’s time for him to go out and just try to not drink his feelings instead of isolating himself.

But within a split second, as he remembers that Stan and Bill work together in the financial aid office, drinking too much becomes the least of his worries.

“Bill…is Bill gonna be there?” He murmurs, head hung down in familiar shame as he remembers the feeling he got the day after Mike’s party, when he swore Bill saw him wave and walked the other way without a word. Fingers fidgeting, he awaits Bev’s response.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” is all she offers up with a sympathetic sigh, squeezing his hand lightly before she begins to rub her thumb back and forth on the back of it. “I can message Mike and find out.”

A moment of silence passes, and then Eddie shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it. Go get ready.”

With this, Bev gives his hand a light pat before she slides off of his bed. “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much about him,” she comments as she makes her way to the door. Eddie groans, not in the mood for any of her lectures but knowing she’ll put in her two cents anyway.

“He’s one of my closest friends outside of this apartment,” he defends.

“I understand that,” Bev huffs, turning around and leaning against the door to establish eye contact once more. “I just think you should let him be upset and stop giving him so much of your time.”

“But it’s my fault he’s acting like this.”

“You were drunk, and he’s acting like a dick.”

Eddie is not about to get into this with her right now. He remains silent so as to let her have the last word, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. Bev purses her lips as she turns the knob to open the door.

“Let me know if you’re coming,” she says before exiting the room to finish getting ready.

As the door shuts behind her, Eddie falls back onto his pillows with a heavy sigh. He then grabs his phone and opens up his messaging app again to compose a message to Mike. Deciding to keep it short and simple, he types, _‘You guys gonna be at Stan’s tonight?’_ and presses _Send._

After the message is delivered, he starts rounding his social media feeds to make sure that Bill still hasn’t blocked him anywhere. Every time he checks, his heart becomes lodged in his throat, afraid of what he’ll find; but every time he checks, he can still see Bill’s posts. There’s at least that much.

Fortunately, everything checks out once again; and as he sighs in relief, his phone vibrates in his hand when Mike’s response pops up at the top of his phone screen. He taps on the notification and is taken to their chatroom.

_‘Not goin’ out tonight. Bill’s already in his pjs and I’m headed to the library rn.’_

Okay. Maybe he can do this.

* * *

When Bev opens the door to Stan’s home, she is loud and makes her presence known; which is the exact opposite of how Eddie enters new spaces. The front door has barely been shut and Bev has already made herself comfortable at the dinner table, taking a spot around a setup of _Ring of Fire_ in between Ben and another girl that Eddie does not recognize.

“Hey, Stan,” Eddie greets in the midst of the game, tranquil smile as he waves to Stan, who waves back with an enthusiastic grin. From the sight of this and the way his head sways around like a bobblehead, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he is already well intoxicated.

“Oh, guys, this is my roommate,” Bev introduces with an indicative gesture toward Eddie while he stands in front of the table fidgeting with his hands. “He’s super cool and he’s basically, like, my brother here.”

Eddie begins to make his introductory rounds to unfamiliar faces, repeating the same, _‘Hi, I’m Eddie, nice to meet you,’_ and shaking hands with or loosely hugging the other person, depending on how welcoming they make themselves out to be. During this, he makes a mental note of every face’s name to the best of his abilities even though he knows that those very names will go out the window in probably the next hour or so.

“Come play with us!” Stan claps excitedly as Eddie pulls up the ottoman from the living room to seat himself at the table. “You have a drink, right?”

As Bev stifles a laugh because _of course Eddie has a drink and as a matter of fact he’s got two,_ Eddie nods while setting his black grocery bag onto the table and pulls the sides down to reveal two cans of Four Loko. There are immediately some very loud reactions at the table upon the reveal.

“You’re so brave,” chimes the boy beside him, whose name he already can’t recall. “That shit gives me war flashbacks to my undergrad days.”

“For the record, I told him we were gonna take it easy tonight,” Bev laughs in defense amidst the commotion.

“This _is_ taking it easy,” Eddie spits back defensively, thinking back to when he downed 5 shots of rum at Mike’s party in less than an hour while also sipping on his second cup of rum and coke. He shudders at the memory.

Ben is his saving grace when he suggests that they continue on with the game. Stan is the first person to resume the game, pulling his card carefully to avoid having to take the shot of tequila that has been poured to the rim. With that, the attention is taken off of Eddie’s apparently questionable choice of drink and put onto the game, which is now back in motion after his and Bev’s entrance had interrupted it.

Now, Eddie doesn’t claim to be the best at _Ring of Fire;_ however, he also isn’t very bad at it. He’s learning that, at the very least, he isn’t as bad as Ben, who suddenly forgets all of the English language when it is time to rhyme, or Stan’s other friend, Betty, who seems to never remember the rules that are made up when the jacks are pulled.

He will admit, however, that he does have his moments. Especially now that the alcohol is starting to affect him and his ability to think is impaired when he has to come up with something that rhymes with ‘door’.

The game becomes much more entertaining when Stan makes up the rule that no one is allowed to address anyone by name. Eddie loves this rule because there are still two or three people whose names he still cannot remember, so he doesn’t hesitate to call the boy beside him ‘Palm Tree Shirt’ or the girl next to Bev ‘Pink Cardigan’.

So Eddie, or ‘Striped T-shirt’ _,_ is already on his second can of Four Loko and pretty tipsy when the game ends by Pink Cardigan pulling the final king card, resulting in her having to take that shot of tequila that no one wanted. The table cheers for her as she downs it even though she immediately chases it with the remainder of her wine cooler because it’s _tequila_.

“Okay,” Bev starts as she springs up out of her chair, Eddie following in suit. Some people in the house have already left the house to either go home or go out to a party or a bar. Everyone else is standing as they socialize because they’re also seemingly getting ready to leave. Eddie knows that Bev is not ready to retire for the night just yet. “Bars?”

Eddie simply nods in response and waits patiently for Bev to say her goodbyes, which always ends up taking way longer than it should. So he chugs the rest of his Four Loko to the best of his abilities and crushes the can in his hand, making accidental eye contact with the lanky boy in the palm tree shirt that he’d been sitting next to for duration of his visit.

“How are you not plastered right now?” Palm Tree Shirt teases with his approach, an impressed smile on his face that displays a set of crooked but spotless white teeth. “Four Loko feels like it came straight from hell.”

An unattractive chortle leaves Eddie’s mouth before he can catch it, and it seems to make this boy’s smile grow bigger. He shrugs in response, only truly able to offer him his sole excuse. “I don’t like to wait to get drunk.”

“I can see that.”

A moment of silence passes by as Eddie stares intently at the face in front of him. Palm Tree Shirt is unaware of the purpose, but he’s trying to remember his name. After a mentally taxing fifteen seconds, he gives up with an embarrassed giggle.

“I’m so sorry,” he starts, hand clasped over his mouth, “I already forgot your name.”

Palm Tree Shirt laughs. It’s not an awkward or uncomfortable laugh; it’s a genuine laugh, a warm laugh.

“It’s totally fine. I’m super bad with names so I get it,” he admits, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses upward on the bridge of his nose. “Richie. I’m Richie.”

With a nod, Eddie lets out a happy hum of acknowledgement in response to having re-learned this guy’s name.

“I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie makes a point to return the smile he is receiving from Richie, whose sleeve rides up just enough to show a sliver of black on his skin when he shuffles a bit to put his hands in his pockets. He makes a mental note of the presence of a tattoo to bring it up when he can see enough of it to be able to make out what it is.

“So, Richie,” Eddie begins, taking a bit of a pause before he continues and relishing in this new name he’s just learned. He really likes the way this name feels on his tongue. “What are you studying?”

A bashful smile is immediately plastered onto Richie’s face. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“You really might.”

“No way. It’s probably _way_ more interesting than what I’m doing. Tell me.”

“Fine,” Richie gives in, chuckling as he stumbles over to the couch, Eddie following like a drunken little puppy. The both of them plop down on the cushions, almost completely in sync.“I’m actually getting my master’s in creative writing next semester.”

Richie says it so nonchalantly, like getting a master’s degree is no big deal. All Eddie can do is nod to show him that he’s not lost interest. And he doesn’t laugh; he smiles and leans forward to rest his face on one of his hands. “That’s so cool. Are you gonna be an author person or something?”

The way Richie shakes his head makes his curls bounce off of his face in a whimsical manner. It almost distracts Eddie from the fact that he’s in the middle of a conversation.

“I _want_ to be a comedian,” he emphasizes, the subtle slur in his voice evident mostly because he’s beginning to do the weird bobblehead thing that Stan was doing a while ago, only five times less obvious. He then takes a breath and opens his mouth, but holds his position for a moment, as if his body were moving faster than his brain was. Eddie purses his lips tight, trying not to laugh at the sight before Richie continues his thought. “So I figure I’d get my foot in the door by hopefully being a writer on SNL. Those guys are fucking hilarious.”

“Like John Mulaney?” Eddie enthuses, perking up immediately. Richie hums, as if he’d never even thought of that.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Hearing Richie speak so briefly, but so highly at the same time, of the future he wants for himself is more attractive than Eddie imagined. He wonders if it’s the Four Loko or him doing all the thinking right now. Soon, he settles on the thought that it’s a little bit of both because he can _kind of_ see himself being sober and still finding him as attractive as he does in this moment.

“What about you?” Richie asks after a beat, turning his gaze from the tiled floor beneath them to Eddie’s face.

“It’s boring,” Eddie whines, now desperate to get on a different topic. It’s not like he’s ashamed or embarrassed by his major, because after all, he reminds himself whenever finals roll around of the privilege he has that is being able to make the choice to study something he actually is interested in. However, he has to admit that he is just a smidge tired of hearing the remarks poking fun at his career plans.

“C’mon, I told you mine.”

“Yeah, but yours is actually uber cool.”

“What?”

“Uber cool, like fucking great.”

Richie laughs. “Just tell me, Eddie.”

When he says that short string of words, Richie is not demanding or aggressive, but instead is gentle and patient and genuinely interested. So, Eddie decides to put on his big boy pants and share.

“I’m majoring in—“

“Aaaand that’s my cue to leave.” Bev’s voice cuts through Eddie’s beginning statement with a laugh. He looks over to the dining area to find that everyone left in the house has overstayed their welcome because Stan is now making out very sloppily with Pink Cardigan. “Let’s go, Eddie-bear.”

With an embarrassed groan in response to that sickly pet name he’s hated since he was old enough to comprehend the English language, Eddie hoists himself up from the couch, almost toppling over once he’s completely back on his feet. “Told you to stop calling me that.”

“Okay, my little drunkard,” his roommate teases, linking her arm with his with an energy that no one should ever have at one o’clock in the morning. She wastes no time leading him to the front door to go, stopping to turn on her heel and face the other boy on the couch. “You comin’, Rich?”

Just like that, Eddie feels any and every trace of alcohol leave his system all at once because the way Bev acknowledges Richie implies a huge amount of familiarity in the relationship that must exist between them. Suddenly, there’s the possibility that Richie could actually have been super uncomfortable this whole time and then tell Bev to make sure they’re never in the same vicinity again and then they never meet again but he never finds out why because Bev is so sparing of his feelings that she just doesn’t mention it.

_Slow down, Eddie._

Quickly, he counts to ten in his head to avoid having to make an embarrassing beeline to the car for his inhaler. It isn’t until after he’s had his mini crisis that he sees Richie shrug and push himself off of the couch with a smile.

“Sure, why not?”

And suddenly, Eddie is at ease again.


End file.
